Judgement of the United Order
by isamcrozier
Summary: For a man with the devil's own luck, the returns due the devil are death. Captain William Turner, who was mentored in sailing by Calypso herself, in either her madness or her brilliance, is a captain as capable as his crew. An unexpected passenger now foretells troubled seas, as somewhere in limbo plots are thickened, and Captain Turner's good wife must herself pay a due toll.
1. Chapter 1

Jack's boots caused the dock to creek loudly with every step. Jack accompanies the creak of rotting wood well; he too was drunken to falling apart.

"That's a lie. That's a lie. That's a lie, lie, lie!"

The rum swashed merrily in it's bottle as it sang it's liquid melody to accompany Jack's shanty.

"This ram and I got drunk, sir, as drunk as drunk can be, and when we sobered up, sir, we were far away out at sea. That's a lie. That's a lie. That's a lie, lie, lie."

Mister Gibbs was deep inland, searching for a medicine man who might be able to restore the Pearl to her former, not bottle sized glory. Voodu or woman. Or Obeah. Anything would be fine really. With Mr. Gibbs gone, Jack Sparrow was left without a thing to do. Drinking and merriment were always good time fillers. Unless the Governor of Jamaica personally wanted to hang you. The Rum was spicy.

"This wonderful old ram, sir, was graceful as a kid; He swallowed the captain's spyglass along with ship from rudder to jib. That's a lie. That's a lie. That's a lie, lie, lie."

A lonely dock was as good a place as any for imbibing in the intoxicating forgetfulness of drink. Even better than many. It was near water.

"The night was very rough, sir, the wind like oyster peel; he made for me schooner of whale skin and taught me trick at the wheel. That's a lie. That's a lie. That's a lie, lie."

A creaked rope behind him.

Jack was drunk, but not unguarded. Creaking meant weight. Weight meant gun. Gun meant bad. Jack just needed something clever to say.

"I'll be havin me pearl back, Jack."

The sound of shot. The blindness of shock. The fortunate lack of pain as of yet. A moment for healthy denial. Jack had finally registered something clever to say. Then nothing. 


	2. Chapter 2

Jack awoke with a pain greater than grog on a white sand. He was face down, and the waters were crystal blue, but he was not alone. Nor was he near port. No flying rats abound to pick at the carcass of ship waste. Nor should company be mixed as it was. Strange occurrences though. Perhaps he should find it where he was.

"Why aren't we in Kingston love?" asked Jack, tugging on the dress of a peasant woman.

"Pardon?"

"Certainly. Belay that." said Captian Sparrow, standing wearily. "Why are.. you.. in Kingston?"

As Jack asks, he stumbles forward invasively. His fingers were harmless enough; they could move even forward.

"I - I beg your pardon?! I have never made my feet on Kingston. You might have me mistaken, I think."

"I don't believe I could love. For you see, I was in Jamaica before I found myself sleeping abreast this beach. I did not leave. Therefore I am still in Jamaica. Q.E.D love. You are in Jamaica. Now tell me, why would that be?"

"I fear, for what I have to tell you, you had better sit down."

A dandy gentleman in velvet finery approached Jack with hands outstretched.

"I suppose then, for the lack of visibly available seating, you had best not tell me then. Savvy?"

With that Jack stepped past the dandy gentleman toward the blink; well toward the sea. Green lights don't always blink. Jack had great hope that his mate Mr. Gibbs was near with his flask. Or that some rum was near. Either should be expected soon. A chap could get lucky.

"Jack Sparrow!"

Jack's reaction was one practised so many thousands of times. He mixed confusion and inability to recognize the obvious well. He did know that rum not often spoke.

"Are we acquainted?"

"Jack. I'm only making these trips because.. have you done something to cause fault with your memory?"

While his vision was still becoming acclimated toward regaining consciousness, Jack had no trouble recognizing William Turner; the whelp who had taken command of the Flying Dutchman. Good for him. Jack was always overjoyed to see someone gain a prize in life.

"Mr Turner. However very good to see you. You do recognize me then. I suppose that's all good and well and good. Supposingly. And if I supposed my debited stay upon the Dutchman has been pardoned, would I be speaking truth and power?"

"There is not business left for you to hold onto Jack. My first act as captain of this work as charone was to pardon all debited souls. I wonder though."

"Wonder is all well and fine, Mr. Turner, but don't let it carry you where it ought. Dangerous places where wonder goes. Better off without it you are."

"Were I to let you aboard my ship, Mr. Sparrow, I expect you would successfully steal it from me before our ferry trip was through. Would I be estimating you.."

A moment's pause.

"Frankly, don't worry about it. I know I'm estimating you properly; if not underestimating you."

"Tripe nonsense. A marked stain upon me honor; but I have a soul for forgiveness I do. Captain Sparrow please. I am a captain you know. I have my own ship and everything. Have I ever given you a reason to not trust me lad?"

"On several occasions."

"Thus, you have no question of if you can trust me. You know that you cannot. And that is why I am most trustworthy man presently available. Lets sail!"

With that, Jack begins to board the Dutchman.

"Good sir! Do you tell me that we will be sailing with pirates?! To endure them as they... I am in all rational thinking certain that I am dead. Must I be ferried with mangy, feral, and debt-less foxing dogs of the sea also?"

Captain William Turner stood solid on the draw-plank as Captain Sparrow ascended behind him. He waited until he could feel from the lack of further sag in the plank; waited until he was assured that Mr. Sparrow had ascended onto the ship itself; before he continued.

"Mr. Sparrow and I may have our differences, but I am as pirate as he!"

A gasp floods the air as understanding strikes the crowd in a wave.

"Captain Sparrow, if you please. Or perhaps Captain Jack Sparrow. Though perhaps Sparrow suits me. Is there any Rum, Mr. Turner?"

It was the gasping, really. Crowds were enthralled by Captain Jack Sparrow. It piqued the curiosity. And the need for rum.

"If you will not sail with pirates, you will find no passage aboard this ship!"

"Absurd!"

"Outrageous!"

"I ain't sail'n wit no plague spotted pirates!"

William dropped from the mid height of the gangplank onto the sands of the beach. The weight of his person caused quartz sand to spray in all directions, leaving a crater far deeper than a man of his body should. A heavy burden, being heavy in water.

"Of you who will not sail this day; to you were pauper and common, to the boats."

"Good sir, should I sully the term! What of we?! Such devastating trauma! Are we to walk the ocean bottom also?"

"Do not be concerned, sir. You will be well cared for."

Loose numbers from the crowd had begun to shuffle their way toward ascending onto the Dutchman.

An older man stopped mid gangplank.

"Bredda. Do ye be Davy Jones?"

"Let me tell you no lies. I am not Jones. Jones has passed on. This is the locker."

"Who be you den?"

"I am only the ferryman."

Captain Turner steps upon the boards onto the Flying Dutchman. The plank is clear now. Few passengers to join this run.

"Um..." says a youth in the crowd.

"Speak strongly, Gretania. These are no times to forget your position."

"Due sir! When will this other vessel be arriving to see to us? Do you intend your service without telling us so much as that?"

"The currents will see to you sir. They will ferry you without delay."

"See here!"

The lady raises her head proudly, baring here disappointment stiffly. The child, the young girl Gretania, looks upon the Dutchman and begins to weep.

"Gretania! Forget never your station!"

William takes an interest.

"Circumstance has no weight which cannot be shouldered by one with great propriety, my beloved daughter."

"Young miss?"

The child looks up, her eyes tear bloodied and rash swollen.

"Did... you... have words for me?"

"Am I; free?"

"Would you sail under the Roger with we; pirate bilge?"

With self aware reserve, Gretania nodded in affirmation. With a showman's curl of his hand, the young lady stood on the ships raise-plank. Her own movement was of no matter; but William had dedicated himself to making of his passengers more than they were when they boarded his ship.

"Death separates all in time."

Gretania's mother stifled her gasp while her father turned red as a beat.

"If you would pardon me from the gravity of our own conversation, sir, I must have a word with my daughter."

"But of course sir. Her words with you are hers to have."

With no hesitations, the nobleman volleys with words upon his daughter.

"You disappoint myself and your mother the same. You shame myself and my house. You are making a choosing that does to us a wretch fortune, daughter."

After a moments pause, Gretania turned and proceeded up the plank; never returning a word.

After a moment's waiting, Captain Turner prepares to ascend the plank himself. However as he turns his back, the nobleman stormed toward him as to overtake his shoulder.

As quickly as time itself passes, William Turner had a cutlass at his throat.

"Make no mistake, Governor Archibald Krem. I will cut you down now and the currents will still take you ashore."

A moment's silence.

"Are we saavy?"

The governor nodded through the mess of fear overtaking his nerves, and with a flash of green the pirate, his daughter, and that infernal ship were gone. 


	3. Chapter 3

To place blame on them would be a folly in itself, Elizabeth thought to herself. She had often pondered, before her untimely demise, the crew who might be looking in her direction with thoughts of potency of threat she offered as prior captain. Potency of threat indeed. Elizabeth mulled over macabre thoughts of piracy, murder, and conspiracy; sprawled laxly upon a padded tearoom furnish; dirk point balanced dangerously upon her fingers. With so many problems being so immediately present, this further burden Calypso had given her was maddening in it's reason. What was she intended to draw from the conspirators motives for her own murder? Calypso was mad!

The abrupt opening of the captain's quarters door was an intrusion which, not altogether uninviting, broke that strain upon her thinking.

The image appropriate of power was to not look as unaffective changes made themselves present in one's environment. Image was an art that Elizabeth, as a woman Elizabethian, was a master. Sprawled still, looking into nothingness, she could hear the rapid but at times uncertainly slow footsteps of the entrant. They weren't Will's gait.

"Shall I assume then, you being here, that there is no Rum?"

The surprise of hearing the voice of Jack Sparrow was enough to break the carefully crafted image which Elizabeth had refined so well. That man should not be dead. That man was Calypso, as so vulgarly was often said, with a dick.

"Jack!"

"Do I savvy the term as pirate King ended before a vote could be taken? Sullied that is love. Absolutely sullied. Are you captain here? Because I think you should be."

"Jack;" Elizabeth breached, stressing a soon ending humor in her voice, "My husband is an excellent captain. Trained by Calypso herself. I have no need to be captain of this vessel."

"Trained by Calypso. Now that's unsettling. Where is the rum?"

"That chest there." responded Elizabeth, pointing to a chest braced against a globe table.

Characteristic of Jack, no thanks were given as he swaggered to the chest; lifting it's lid with the heel of his boot. Elizabeth had only momentarily been interrupted however, and maintained her lax poise with expert image.

Jack spun on his heel and Elizabeth rested her chin on a fist on a rested elbow. She would not be beaten for a commanding presence. Jack's words upon his exiting the captain's quarters, however, marked yet another change in Elizabeth's demeanor.

"Unlike the Ms. Swan I remember, Ms. Turner, you have become quite lax regarding the code of the brethren. If I recall, no woman shall be found upon a ship unless they be monsters, male in every respect but that they were born otherwise, or else they be eunuchs. Since I assume you neither, I suspect you couldn't give one bit of eight for the code. Good for you. I meself always thought the code a bit too self inviting for my freedoms."

"I'll have you know!" countered Elizabeth, rising to the conflict, "The crew of this ship have determined there will be no law upon this ship but that of articles they have drawn themselves. I stand by and defend that law, Mr. Sparrow, and if you have conflict, we may settle this quarrel with fist or steel at next landing!"

"No no, Ms. Turner. I mean no disrespect. I'm a captain, I'm sure you know, but I am a forgiving fellow. Yoho then?"

The conflict having been met with and settled, and not suspecting Jack of the petite intrigue so popular among the Aristocracy, Elizabeth was in a position to meet Jack with the grace given to the station he occupied in her social affiliation.

"Drink and be merry Jack. You're dead. One should live liberally when they're dead. I think I'll even have the first drink with you." 


End file.
